Her words are fickle but futile devices

That pass through cherry wine lips

And she stares with hollow eyes

That spill the blood and secrets of those she finds unworthy.

Beware!

Her stare is not to be mistaken for sympathy.

She injects happiness into her veins just to feel a rush of something that isn't nothing

While the devil watches over her shoulder like a host onto prey,

And waits for her to choose her next victim to seduce.

She's a broken soul

With a broken future

And a lust for a crimson murder.

She's the devil's advocate.

Written on 9/13/20 at 7:34 P.M.
Edited on 10/19/20 at 10:47 A.M

Kalopsia™